


This Burning in My Skin

by gaysquared



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Priesthood, Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Anal Sex, Angst and Smut, Blow Jobs, Incubus Erik, Jellal sinning, M/M, Priest Jellal, Priest Kink, Sacrilege and Blasphemy, Slightly dubious consent bc he's an incubus guys, Succubi & Incubi, just sin, sinning hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7482990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysquared/pseuds/gaysquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Priest Jellal is instructed to try and banish the latest demon his parish has acquired. <br/>________<br/>AKA I saw Priest!Jellal fanart and I just?? Sinned?? A lot??</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Burning in My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> So this is full of sin... Obviously slightly dubious consent bc Erik is an incubus, but to me, he's just trying to help Jellal out of his shell. There are lots of references, so:
> 
> Ifrit: a demon/winged being made entirely of fire (ancient Arab in origin) aka, Natsu in this fic
> 
> The "lamia": based off a Greek monster, this is Mira in her demon form. 
> 
> The Fall of Crassus: Crassus was a Roman Centurion rumored to have been killed by having molten gold poured down his throat 
> 
> The Flames of the gifts of tongues: supposedly, after Jesus ascended to heaven, people started receiving spiritual gifts, especially the gift of tongues; they were described as having "flames hovering above their heads"
> 
> Nephilim: angels that became demon's when they descended to earth to either follow Lucifer or just do it with humans
> 
> Cambion: the supernatural offspring of a incubus/succubus and a human
> 
> The young witch is Wendy. Sorry. This is an angsty verse.

"Father Jellal."

Jellal had been walking down the steps to the meal hall, the light in the stairwell dim under the setting sun. He knew the voice immediately as he turned to face his caller, setting his features emotionless as he saw her.

"Mother Milkovich."

She takes a few steps down, closer to him, and says, "I wanted to speak with you."

"Of course," he nods. He pushes away the thought that he doesn't really have a choice, anyways.

"You've heard we've recently collected an incubus," Ultear says, tone level and cutting as a knife. Her robes shift as she moves to clasp her hands together. Jellal nods.

"He's been a bit troublesome, you see," she continues. "We brought him in just fine, but while we've been holding him, we've had more than one Brother be overcome by his wiles." She huffs, a bit of anger cracking through her facade. "I thought not allowing any Sisters near him would act as a form of insurance, however..."

Jellal swallows, fights the urge to look away; he often tires of looking her directly in the eyes. But she does not allow otherwise.

"He grows desperate, I think," she begins again. "He is weak. Hungry. A man as devoted to Our Lord such as yourself should be able to finish him off. I would do the honors myself, but you know how I hate getting my hands dirty..."

"Yes, Mother," Jellal says, keeping in a sigh.

Her smile is a chilling one. "Good. You'll proceed to the dungeons after dinner and evening prayers, then?"

"Yes, Mother."  
____________

Sister Meredy greets him in the meal hall, looking tired, and Jellal takes his seat next to Sister Erza, stale bread crushed under his palm.

Erza looks up at him with tired eyes, smelling of burnt hair, a red burn marking her hand; being a part of Mother Ultear's personal demon extermination squad is no particular pleasure.

"The Ifrit giving you trouble again?" he asks, looking to lift her spirits as Sister Meredy sits to his left.

Erza smiles lazily, looking slightly dazed. "Of all the nephilim..." She sighs. "I am not fire proof, you know."

He smiles. "May God help you."

"Even Father Justine has been struggling," Meredy interjects. "That lamia, that beast, is truly horrendous."

"Father Justine can take care of himself, Sister," Jellal says, biting into his crushed bread.

"And what does Mother Milkovich have you working on now?" Erza asks, scooping mushed peas with her spoon.

"Banishing a simple incubus," Jellal replies.

"I have only dealt with succubi before," Meredy supplies. "I wouldn't imagine incubi would be much different, but..."

"Demon's wills are always easy to resist when you have God's word in your heart, Sister," Jellal says. He looks back at Erza. "Sister, talk to Brother Richard if that demon is truly causing you so much trouble."

Erza sighs. "I might have to do just that."  
_________

The air grows dank and heavy as Jellal descends the stairs to the dungeons. He can hear the wailing screams of demons already; when he enters the hallway, he passes the cell of a young witch they have been debating whether or not to burn. He can hear her crying.

He approaches the broad wooden door he has been looking for; the surface is entirely covered in carved containment sigils, and heavily padlocked. Jellal holds his rosary between his fingers as he nods at the men standing guard; even they look scared for him. He considers it rather insulting.

The door slides open slowly with a creak, and, taking a breath, Jellal enters. He crosses the small salt-water moat into the cell; which, for all intents and purposes, appears to be empty. The door slams closed behind him.

"Demon," Jellal calls, unamused at this particular trick. The brick walls are marred with scratches made by deep claws; whether by this demon or the former kept here, Jellal isn't sure.

"Demon," Jellal calls again. "You will answer when I call for you."

A beat of silence, and all Jellal hears is his own breathing. And then--

"Hello," a voice purrs directly into his ear. Jellal's back straightens instantly, although he doesn't flinch; he takes a moment, then turns to see the demon before him.

It appears as a handsome man, albeit with a scarred eye and pointed ears. Its skin glitters bronze, shifting in the dim light, and its hair is the color of holy wine.

Jellal blinks. "Why do you not show your true form? You think you can fool a man of God?"

The demon laughs; it is low and throaty. "You can see my true form if you like, I suppose," he rumbles. "Although it is quite similar. Just with a few extra details. Like the horns."

Jellal resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"I simply thought you would appreciate this form more," the demon purrs, stepping closer.

Jellal blinks, noticing the demon's nakedness. A thought occurs to him. "While I will banish you soon," he says, "I have a question for you first."

"Priest wants to play a game?" the demon laughs. "Okay. I'll play."

Jellal wants to sneer, but--

"Why have you been seducing men?" Jellal asks. "Is it not the goal of Incubi to impregnate human women and produce cambion, your demon spawn?"

The demon simply stares at him for a moment, before laughing loudly. "What a ridiculous notion!" he-- it exclaims. "Unlike your holy angels, we have free will, don't we?" his mouth curls into a devilish smile. "We do anything we like in the process of feeding. What happens on this earth besides that does not matter to us, _Father_."

Jellal feels his lip curl in a snarl. "You will address an agent of the Lord with respect, child of Lilith."

"I've never even met her, actually," the demon amends, moving into Jellal's space.

Jellal yells in Latin, nose wrinkled in disgust, as he takes a step back.

The demon laughs, sharp teeth bared, and Jellal's fist curls around his rosary.

"I have a query for you as well, Father," the demon rumbles, and Jellal's eyes narrow.

"Your tricks and distractions bore me," he states, leveling the incubus with a stare.

"We demons lie and cheat no more than men, Father," it says. "I simply have a question. About your Holy Book."

"Why does a demon question what he already knows of the Bible?" Jellal asks, foot on the edge of the small moat, gaining as much distance as he can.

"I question interpretation," it grins, the face of its skin glittering like crystals of gold. "You condemn sodomy, particularly in my case; this word, it comes from the tale of Sodom and Gamora, yes?"

Jellal straightens. "Of course."

"And in that story, Lot, yes; is visited by two angels, from heaven," the demon continues. "He hides them in his house, but the townspeople come looking; they tell him to let out the men he has with him so they may have their way with them;" the demon's smile is ghastly, sharp, gleaming teeth reflecting torchlight. "And Lot refuses, offering his two virgin daughters instead. Now tell me, Father, why those two virgin daughters deserved debauchment and rape more than those angels."

Jellal blinks, confused. "They were angels of the Lord."

"And angel's purity, livelihood, is more valuable than that of humans?" The demon asks, eyes lighting with wicked cunning. "Would that logic not confirm what Lucifer himself believed? That your God should love his angels more than his human children, should cherish them more?"

"You play mind games, demon," Jellal says, affronted. "You only look to confuse, unholy beast. You do Satan's work."

"I've never met him, either, actually," the demon grins. "And could we stop with all the epithets? I do have a name, you know."

Jellal pauses, looking at the beast curiously. "Of course. But why would you tell me it? It would only give me power over you."

The demon nods. "Yes, well. I can give you _a_ name." He tilts his head, as if in thought. "How about Erik?"

"I will banish you soon, anyways, but," Jellal shrugs, confused, "if it suits you."

The demon smiles. "There. We are even, as I already know your name, Father Jellal."

Jellal blinks rapidly, nearly dropping the rosary in his grasp. "How do you--"

"I may be bound to my physical form, here," the demon says, eyes glinting dangerously. "But I am not powerless. I can hear everything inside that head of yours. All your thoughts, wishes..." A smirk spreads on its rose-colored lips. "And all your deepest, darkest desires, oh Holy man."

Jellal feels a thick, sluggish heat of adrenaline and fear begin to spread throughout his body; he can't step back; he would fall. He fumbles, beginning to recite Latin in his head.

The demon is not fooled; it steps forward, closing another foot of distance. "You are her plaything," it rumbles, unholy eyes locked on him, and Jellal feels his heart beat wildly with panic.

"I don't know who you--" he tries, reminding himself that the only power this demon holds over him is fear, but--

"Don't play games, Father. I thought that was my job." The demon circles him like prey as it taunts him. "And what a cruel puppeteer she is. She has tortured you, with my kind, since you were a child."

"Mother Ultear seeks only to gain wisdom--"

"You still have nightmares about the things she's done, don't you," the demon speaks, and his breath smells not of sulfur, but of freshly picked lilies. There is barely a foot between them now, and Jellal worries he will slip and fall into water or crack his head on the grate. "And still, she uses you. And you let her. Are you so pathetic?"

Jellal snarls, temperament breaking, and he pushes into the demon standing before him. The beast steps back, surprised, and Jellal breathes heavily at the contact, slightly slumped over. "You mistake me for a patient man, demon."

Its lips have curled again into a hideous smile, fangs bright. "I made no mistake, Jellal. You are no pathetic man, either."

"Why do you play such games?" Jellal curses, standing full again, eyes dark.

"Because you are fun," the demon whispers. "You are very fun, holy man."

Jellal tries to step forward, feeling sluggish. "Cease-- Cease this incompetence--"

"Father Jellal, not even you want me to do that," the demon purrs. "I could have taken any form when you entered, and I chose this one."

"So?"

A malicious smile. "I chose this form because this is what you want. You want the demon. You are angry, I can feel it," the demon breathes excitedly. "You wish some form of rebellion, for all she has done to you, for all this parish has done to you, and what better rebellion than a devil himself?"

"Do not flatter yourself, demon," Jellal attempts, although it carries no weight, and his head swims. The room feels impossibly warm. "You have poisoned me, somehow."

"I did nothing of the sort," the demon, (Erik, was it?) grins.

Jellal moves in anger to shove the beast again, but his strength fails him, and he slumps into its arms. The skin in warm and smooth, not all rough as its appearance would suggest, and Jellal tries not to melt into the ease that suddenly overcomes him.

"The turmoil in you saddens me, Father," the demon whispers.

Jellal can feel himself shaking, trying to hold himself up, and he forces out, "You know nothing of turmoil, beast."

"It is all I know," Erik, this demon, says softly. "All I know is men like you, torn. It is so much more ironic then that you are of the cloth; _torn_."

Jellal can feel tears pricking at his eyes, heart beating heavily with emotion. "Do not torture me like this."

"I would not leave you hanging in a purgatory," the demon says, voice still low, but full of the stuff of sleep and dreams now. "It is either Heaven or Hell, right, Father?"

"Do not tempt me--" Jellal chokes out.

"You have done so yourself," Erik whispers, and cradles Jellal's head with his hands, lifting his face up, up. Jellal can barely move, he feels weary; tired beyond years; and entirely wanting of the contact.

The soft brush of lips is unexpected only in its tenderness; the bite that comes next feels like a realization of truth. Jellal's entire body feels warm and cradled in the demon's-- Erik, he corrects himself, if you are going to sin like this at least embrace what a fool you are-- in Erik's arms. He is wanting, starving, his mouth open in waiting reception, as Erik growls against his lips. A knee is inserted between Jellal's legs, and the priest whimpers.

"Corinth-- Corinthians, six-- Six, n-nine--" he attempts blearily, only to cry out when the beast grabs his hips and grinds him down on his knee.

"This is not a place for holy words, Father Jellal," Erik growls, and his mouth is reclaimed; the black of his robes falling to the ground; his white collar falls noiselessly to the floor. He is in only his underclothes before he even realizes it; a warm, glittering hand pushes against the hardness between his legs. "You need relief as bad as I need feeding," Erik laughs, that deep and throaty thing again, but this time it makes Jellal want to be marked and marred.

"Please," Jellal swallows, heat lighting like flame on his skin, his flesh screaming its enjoyment of the demon's skin on his. He imagines himself drowning in gold. Father in Heaven, he is the fall of Crassus itself.

His underclothes are gone, his cock hard under the beast's grasp, (smooth hands that he imagines peaked by talons), but now is only the glittering of metals in strong grip. An impossibly warm hand guiding his thigh, liquid, like the pull of desire and the rush of blood in veins. Erik, this demon, settles on his knees, and takes Jellal's cock into his mouth.

Jellal has to grip on the beast's shoulders to keep from falling over. He had always read that penetrating a succubus was supposed to be like sticking your cock in ice, but the demon licks him softly, sucks, and the warmth spreads into his chest like the licking flames of the gift of tongues, and how he could be thinking of heavenly gifts here, honestly--

Jellal watches himself disappear into Erik's mouth, as if he is being devoured, and he is frozen in lust, petrified; a twist of tongue and the pressure of sucking as Erik slides back up, and he keens like the whine of an old door.

"I can't," he tries, face red as he sweats, but his hips thrust forward into that inviting mouth anyways, even as it pulls away.

"It's unhealthy to keep it in this long, you know," the demon smirks before licking down his cock again.

"Please don't tease," Jellal pleads, only to be engulfed again by hellish fires that feel divine, of all things. His legs shake.

"But it's what I live for," the dark voice chuckles, and that strong grip is back around him again. A couple strong pumps, and--

Jellal curses in Latin, too lost to chastise himself. He tenses, spends himself between them, panting sharply. He looks down at the wicked thing between his legs; Erik grins, looking triumphant.

"Hope you don't mind," he says. "I haven't fed in quite a while. I might need a second helping."

Jellal is on his back before he can take a breath.   
____________

He's whining on three fingers, everything slick and hot, although he doesn't know where any oil might have come from, or why his body relaxes on command at Erik's touch. He is puddy in his hands, undone, writhing back like a whore begging to be fucked. It is thoroughly embarrassing, and yet he chases the pleasure like a hedonist, thirst strong in his throat, a flame now lit in his stomach he cannot extinguish.

When the demon slides into him, it is like the clicking of a skeleton key in his body. Everything is righted, it seems, like everything has finally been shifted back into place, the fullness, the incredible heat. He is a lost man, may God have mercy on his soul...

His legs wrap themselves around Erik's hips as the demon thrusts into him, steady and unwavering, bursting at the edges with a pressure and pleasure that drains down into his limbs and fills him with an ecstatic possession. How fitting, it seems; even as he groans on the demon's cock, thrusting his hips back, sweat-soaked hair dragging along the stone floor.

"A beautiful sight," Erik says, thrusting harder into him, grinding in like a pestle, like everything ordinary Jellal can think of except it is exceptional, and he is stolen by it.

"Please, please, please," Jellal chants, cock throbbing between their bodies, and all he sees is the splay of gold skin before him. Wine-colored hair, eyes, teeth flickering in his vision when they sink shallowly into his throat, and Jellal bucks up, body guiding his lust as his mind flatlines, blank with pleasure.

He's dripping all over his stomach, grotesque, and yet he's wishing for more, this demon, his demon, fucking him harder, and he wants to burst at the knowledge that he wants this; needs this, as throughly as he needs to breathe. A man of the cloth, brought down by glittering skin and malicious smile, what will they say of him--

But his only thought now is the half-rhythm, half-rut of their bodies, Erik moving to wrap his cock in his grip again, and Jellal whimpers in an absolute lack of shame. He is panting the demon's name, Erik, Erik, not caring at all if it's completely fake; it's alright, he's never met an Erik before, and--

Hips jutting, his breath rapid as a hummingbird's heartbeat, and his eyes roll back as if he will find what he is looking for back in his own head. His skull slams into the ground when he comes, body taught as wire, and he's panting out his want, yes, yes, and there is no denying his pleasure as it releases between them.

He breathes, head heavy, eyes blearily trying to stay open, blurred gold filling his vision.

"Like I said," the demon says, and Jellal feels darkness creeping at the corners of his vision. "Beautiful."

There is a soft press of lips on his, and his consciousness fades.   
__________

He wakes in his bed; Sisters Meredy and Erza stare at him, he looks, only to encounter a blinding headache, to see Mother Ultear standing at his side.

"Father Jellal," she says, voice low and urgent with some form of care. "We were worried."

"What--?" he asks, his memories already rushing back, but then when he fainted--

"You were overcome by the demon," Ultear explains, concern on her face. Whether it is real or not is the question. "The guards were instructed not to interfere, so I worry it may have been hours before anyone found you. He drained you of energy--" she takes a breath, glancing at the Sisters to his left for a moment. "It took you several nights to recuperate, but we are glad to see you awake. I have called for the Bishop to come help us, if this this demon can overcome you of all men..."

Jellal only partially listens; he is distracted by the cool feel of sheets on his skin, the memory of burning bronze skin.

"We will house it here until we can get assistance," Ultear finishes. "We praise the Lord that you are unharmed, and he has seen your soul unmarred by sin."

Jellal wants to crack a smile. He'll have to visit that demon again, won't he?

Meredy gives him a look like she knows the mark of sin.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to ask questions if I missed anything?? Also idk why my writing decided to turn into Mary Shelley with the romanticism but here we are, sorry for the sin


End file.
